Dance Of The Blades
by fireseal
Summary: Albel and Nel have a friendly match, but Albel seems to take this one too seriously... A little Albel X Nel here. Some spoilers.


**Dance Of The Blades**

A/N: First attempt on something with Albel and Nel. XD Nel's a little OOC here, but I wouldn't blame her, given the circumstances. Comments and criticisms are very much appreciated, thank you.

And, before I forget: SPOILER ALERT. Nothing major, but spoilers ahead nonetheless.

* * *

Blood flowed freely from the gash at the side of her neck as she scrambled to dodge the swift descent of his katana. Her head was spinning, probably because of the rapid loss of blood, and she was hurriedly casting a Healing spell when he came at her again.

His speed was simply unbelievable. His gaunt frame shifted gracefully from one stance to another as claw and blade grappled alternately at her. It was like a dance to him. Normally, Nel would be impressed, humbled even, but today held different circumstances. What was wrong with Albel? This was just supposed to be a friendly (well, as friendly as a man like Albel could get anyway) match, and here she was, severely hurt and narrowly escaping his attempt to slit her throat, yet he still assaulted on relentlessly.

As frantic as he was, Nel was able to formulate a conclusion: She _had_ to _stop_ him.

Clinging to that dictum, she thrust all of her energy on her next attack.

An artificial arm shot out to catch her by her wrist. His grip was like iron, and his metal fingers dug into her skin. Her dagger flung off. She blindly tried to kick him, but it only resulted in unbalancing her further, so when he pushed his weight forward, she easily toppled over.

Nel winced at the impact of her spine and the cold, hard ground. All the fight from her was gone. She surrendered herself to her fate. So after everything she'd gone through, this was how it was going to end...

Time seemed to slow its pace, and she found herself acutely aware of the sweat that glistened in Albel's body, and the fire in his eyes. Images of him raced in her head. She saw them all, everything from their first meeting, to her fights alongside him, to the memory of seeing him train in the Urssa Lava Caves...

And then they were gone, replaced by the sound of her heartbeat. Her mind picked up stray thoughts, like _How come I never realized how handsome he is_?

Why did every detail of him bother her so much? Fayt and the rest grew accustomed to his biting sarcasm and complacent taunts, and they could shrug it off... so why did they all matter to _her_?

Briefly, her imagination snatched a fleeting image of sharing a kiss with him...  
"Was this how you felt before you died too, Father?" she whispered, her words caught in a wave of hysteria.

The motion of Albel's killing blow was cut off abruptly, as though he had just awoken from a trance. His claws hovered over her as his gaze swept over her wounds, and settled on her face. Then he straightened up and sheathed his katana.

"Are you _crying_, Zelpher?" His tone held its trademark note of contempt.

"Are you _hesitating_, Albel The Wicked?" she responded, her thoughts rearranging themselves now that she knew that she wasn't going to die. "Just finish me off already."

"What are you talking about?" he scoffed. "This is just a duel."

"You seemed intent on killing me."

He dismissed her accusation with a shrug. "I was just caught up in the heat of the battle, that's all."

She forced herself to stand, and instantly regretted it. Her body protested by sending out stabs of pain all over. She steeled herself and looked him in the eye. "Is that all you have to say?" Anger gave her question a dangerous edge.

"You Aquionians are too emotional," he retorted."That's why you're weak. You have to learn to commit yourself fully into the fight."

She lifted her hand and thrust it at his cheek as hard as she could. Her arm recoiled with agony, and a cold, logical part of her told her that she was being unreasonable, but she didn't care. "_You nearly killed me!_ And you're just going to pass this off as your 'commitment to the fight'?"

For the first time, Albel had nothing to counter her statement. His fingers were on the tender spot where she'd hit him. He rubbed it absently while his brain tried to register what just happened. Did she just slap him? _Him_, Albel The Wicked? Had she actually _dared_?

"I fight for Aquaria, not just because my father died," she went on. "I lost my father too. But unlike you, I don't go around trampling on other people just to make myself feel better. Emotion is not a weakness, Albel! _You'_re the weak one, if you believe so. And, Apris help me, I can't believe I thought I loved you! Look at me now. Because of your _idiocy_, I can barely stand, let alone Heal myself!"

She was exhausted, and at this point in time, she was just plain numb. Her legs gave away, and she felt herself fall... into the safety of Albel's arms.

It was an surprisingly comfortable feeling. After that grueling duel, she expected to feel like she was leaning against a cold marble statue. But his skin was warm, and his muscles were taut, and he held her quite tightly.

Nel nestled her head against his chest and muttered, "Albel the moron," before letting sleep carry her away.

Albel stood there for a few minutes, motionless, with Nel unconscious in his grasps.

"I'm sorry." His voice was as crisp as ever, but there was a touch of sincere contrition in it. Seconds later, he added, "Nel."


End file.
